


we are young and broken

by Quillium



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bulimia, Cutting, Depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 07:13:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12164049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillium/pseuds/Quillium
Summary: They are 14 and Hunk is silent and Lance is loud and nothing can be wrong in the world as long as they ignore the footprint on Hunk's chest and the pills under Lance's bed.





	we are young and broken

**Author's Note:**

> YOOO guess who's struggling with school and can't write as much? ME. So be patient for updates. If I go off the grid for over a year, the story is abandoned. No if, ands, or buts. That is my rule.

They are 14 and Hunk is silent and Lance is loud and nothing can be wrong in the world as long as they ignore the footprint on Hunk's chest and the pills under Lance's bed.

They are children and young and brash when Lance flirts with the wrong guy and goes back to the dorm with a bruise on his face.

They are stupid and innocent and trusting when Hunk offers someone some cookies in class and spends the better part of the hour crying in the bathroom.

They are childish and dumb and naive when Lance tells himself _last time_ and carves an inch wide strip onto his wrist.

They are impressionable and young and tired when Hunk throws up and tells himself that it's because he's sick and that there's no other reason.

They are 14 when they catch each other, silent and knowing and sharp.

* * *

Hunk catches sight of Lance changing his clothes, catches sight of the scars on his wrists, red and pink and white and pale and stark and mostly dark, and he spends the next few minutes throwing up and trying to figure out what to do next.

Lance, usually sharp-witted and quick-tongued, doesn't say a word, just freezes, and stares at his feet and curls his toes and closes his eyes as he whispers, "Please don't tell anyone. I'm supposed to be doing better."

"You're not, though," Hunk says, weary and soft as he tips his head back and closes his eyes.

Lance shoves his hands in his pockets and looks at his arms, something akin to disgust crossing his features as his lips twist and his eyes darken and then he admits, "I'm not."

It's a simple admission, but Lance says it as though it's the end of everything.

Hunk throws up again and thinks that maybe it is.

* * *

They crawl their way back to their old friendship, slow and cautious and trying to act as though they are ignorant of the scars underneath Lance's sleeves.

It doesn't work, and eventually, Hunk bakes a tray of cookies and takes it to Lance and gives him the whole batch.

He sits on his bed and watches as Lance stares at them curiously, then turns to stare at Hunk.

"They're for you," Hunk says, heart pounding and waiting for Lance to sneer _why fatso, so I can look as bad as you?_ but Lance only offers him a curious look and then dips his head into a nod, slow and understanding.

He eats three, slow and careful and thoughtful, and then he asks, "You eating some? Or are you going to lose all your cookies again?"

Hunk flushes and stares at his hands. " _One time_ ," he swears, and Lance laughs, innocent and naive despite the pills on his shelf and the scabs on his arms.

He eats the cookies, and while Lance isn't around, he throws them all back up again.

* * *

It's a simple little throwaway comment, "You're a lot thinner than you were when we first came here," but it makes Hunk beam.

Lance notices, he can tell by the way that Lance stares, flicks his head and furrows his eyebrows, that he doesn't quite understand. "It's not healthy," He continues pointedly, sticking out his jaw and narrowing his eyes, "to lose weight that fast."

"It's fine," Hulk answers giddily, staring at himself in the mirror and thinking _just a few more pounds and I'll be good_ , "I look okay now, right?"

Lance gives him a sad, weighted look, and then he shakes his head and says, "You've always looked fine."

Hunk cocks an eyebrow at Lance, knowing that it's a lie, made out of pity and kindness, but he doesn't argue, knowing that it's better to let sleeping dogs lie. "Says the boy who's as skinny as a stick," he teases.

"You're skinnier than this stick," Lance tosses back, that frown still in his voice and that crease still in his forehead.

Hunk laughs and says, "Thank you."

It's only later that he realizes that it wasn't meant as a compliment.

* * *

Lance catches him throwing up in the bathroom, rushes in when he hears Hunk retching, and he spends the next few minutes rubbing Hunk's back and softly asking if he wants to see a nurse.

Hunk shakes his head, says he's fine, and he can see Lance's face clear up, understanding and knowing and furious.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Lance demands, shrill and furious.

"I look better this way," Hunk says, and Lance spends the next few seconds screaming at him.

It's all in English, but he thinks that maybe Hunk doesn't understand what he's saying anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wanted to make this a oneshot but my brain was like HAHA nOPE.


End file.
